The Poisoned Apple
by Lipush
Summary: A red duffle bag it was, destined to be her poisoned apple, the firing pistol of the second act. As castle deals with the afterthoughts of this 'Chekhov's Gun' irony, he's also reminded of what it means to be a father.


**A/N-**** This 'One-Shot' is in the same universe as "Chekhov's Gun", following the first story, but before "ARFEA". **

**I still own nothing. Well, except this one-shot, maybe:)**

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**The Poisoned Apple**

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_**'…And envy and pride grew higher and higher in her heart like a weed, so that she had no peace day or night. She called a huntsman, and said, "Take the child away into the forest; I will no longer have her in my sight. Kill her, and bring me back her heart as a token…"'- Sneewittchen**_

* * *

When Alexis turns five, he takes her for first time to the bookstore, the soft scent of old paper mixed with the tender touch of book-jackets triggers a smile on both their faces.

He remembers that day, a tiny pigtail to her hair, her eyes shimmering, the naturally happy child finds her place immediately, hidden amongst endless libraries and passages of bookshelves.

He recalls his heart being filled with such pride and love, a bursting wave of emotion only parents can feel for their children.

* * *

When she turned six, she's afraid of riding the bicycles without the training wheels. It takes some time before she feels secure enough to let go, and he chases her down the street to make sure she doesn't fall or run over the old lady with the walker.

* * *

At the age of ten, she goes through her first heartache. His name's Daniel, and he fell for the class's queen, which 'obviously', or so does Alexis say, is not her. At that time, Castle knows that she's not yet aware of what it really means to be let down by a lover, but for her, it's the end of the world, and he has to hold himself back, as the will to just chase down the insensitive boy and crush his bones is almost overpowering.

* * *

They play laser tag, she twists her lip or sends the 'all okay' grin when he's off to his dates or for another exhausting book tour.

At times, he thinks she's the one raising him, the absence of a caring mother doesn't take such a toll on her as he once feared it will, her aura constantly speaks of joy and the wish to see and explore and to just… live.

She loves everything and everyone.

* * *

She slowly turns into a beautiful adolescent, from there, oh, so painfully quickly, into a mature, caring, responsible woman. The thought of sending her over to college, where he cannot possibly watch over her and keep her childhood and innocence safe, it's eating at him.

But she so gracefully embraces every step, every change, he has trouble keeping up with her.

She's dating, she's developing, and as much as Beckett laughs at his eternal youth, his refusal of moving on, at cases she doesn't realize that once he allows himself that option, he may just notice that he lost Alexis long ago.

She learned to let go of their own tiny world, one that held them, and them alone, in favor of reaching out. And it's like the world moved on while he still has to muddle through.

She calms his fears one evening, saying 'You'll always be my number #1, dad," and he feels suffocated.

Will there be a time when he wouldn't be able to protect her anymore?

* * *

He doesn't hold grudge to Meredith. He's pretty sure he never held it, to begin with. He learned long ago that some things just never meant to be.

He pained, though, that Meredith preferred to give up her daughter's most beautiful years in favor of a career that was doomed to fail.

He sorrowed that Alexis, for such a long time, lacked a mother figure. By the way he saw things, it was a parent's duty to stand and support their child, to wish to fail instead of them, to pull them up when others tie their feet down, to swallow the pain and let their children enjoy the happiness.

Sitting in the interrogation room, letting Beckett have her cat-and-mouse questioning with Marie-Charlotte, is his epiphany.

He writes books, God knows, he had muses, but he believes in separated worlds for truth and fiction.

Some things are to be limited to fiction alone, because reality should be kept for more sane people to assemble it.

He remembers the look on Meredith's face when she left both him and their daughter behind, it was a glance that was hard to read, mixed emotions he couldn't figure out, but nevertheless, it was a look very different from the one reflected from the eyes of Marie-Charlotte.

Her eyes spoke of resentment.

Indifference.

Loathing.

Schadenfreude.

Her blue eyes are his epiphany.

For in the world which he lives in, such an emotion should never be conveyed from a mother to her child. As he listens to her interrogation, a mother's jealousy of her own daughter's attention, a jealousy for the child was so young, when she herself lost her youth, a girl so clean from sin, while she sold her body to her lover's father, a jealousy that drove her to do the unthinkable, telling her own mate- "Make her go away."

In those blue eyes of hers he saw no remorse, no regret or a second thought, no hesitation or questioning of her own self.

The tiny Rose was a burden. The tiny Rose had to go. To be so offhandedly plucked out of this world and thrown into a tomb that was nothing but infinite steams, smothering waters and the darkest of abysses.

Rose's only companion in the merciless depths, is her old pacifier, and her favorite doll, a tiny old diaper which she named after one of the only people who cared for her- Brigitte.

Castle wonders, did she find solace in this doll? Did she shove the small pacifier into her mouth while lying in that fabric grave? Or did she dare screaming aloud, dare trying to reach for some sort of salvation, one she never encountered before, but perhaps still believed in?

Few days ago, her grandmother, Vivian, gave them a photo-album, to give them a sense of concreteness, to let them know they weren't just looking for another name, another face. They were trying to find something, someone that for her at least, used to be a person.

In some of the pictures, Rose's face was frozen, like didn't believe someone was even interested in taking a picture of her. In others, she smiled, but that smile rarely reached her eyes.

Only in few of the pictures she really smiled. Not more than a dozen. About 7 or 8 photos taken by Brigitte or father Jones at the French orphanage. Others, maybe 5 in number, were taken while she was held in the arms of her father. A father Castle still has trouble figuring out.

Some of the pictures don't show Rose, and Vivian almost considers before showing them. They were taken by friends, showing the 'Glory Days' of Marie Charlotte and the father of her firstborn.

Vacation. Holiday.

Young couple in love.

When examining them, it's almost impossible to foresee the future. But said future strikes Castle in one of the photos. Ben and Marie sitting on a motel's room bed, Marie visibly pregnant with Rose. They're both smiling, and right there, behind them, a red duffle-bag is visible.

Just a simple traveling bag, a bag destined to be Rose's poisoned apple, the firing pistol of the second act.

And Castle's fists clench.

Did she know, then? Did she plan, even with her daughter as fetus back then, held in her womb, could she possibly guess that one day she'll bring that precious soul to its eternal slumber?

Those thoughts still haunt him, even days after.

He keeps looking up from his couch, to Alexis' room. The film of his own child's life runs through his mind, as memories fill him. Her first 'Da-da', the first laugh when he tickled her, her first day at school, when she was obviously considering whether she should be running to class or grasp his hips in denial.

He cannot in his life imagine a scenario in which he loses her. She's everything, she always has been, since the moment his shivering arms held the small squirmy bundle, and tears welled up in his eyes.

He's determined to be more understanding. To be the best father he possibly can. To find the courage to let go, to let her flourish, to send her away and not cut off her wings.

Because she deservs the world, and more.

Because there are those who never had the opportunity to vision the colorfulness of butterflies, experience the running about of laser tag, to watch star-trek marathons and experience the unconditional love and support of a caring parent.

Castle understands that now. A small toddling girl, her eyes bright blow and cheeks deep red, taught him that unforgettable lesson.

He must let Alexis be. For both of them.

* * *

He slowly makes his way to the living-room, plugging-in the small USB key to the screen and turns the device on.

He's done it in the past couple of days, just reminding himself over and over what this is all really about.

A young small face greets him, It's a sunny day in New-York, and Rose is wearing he favorite clothes- a light pink skirt, a banana-colored blouse and a soft pink sweater. She holds a heart-shaped lollipop and runs around Mia's Garden.

Vivian's voice fills the quiet livingroom, as she is obviously the one filming. "Rose, _attendre_!" she trying to catch up with the girl, who's obviously in a good mood. Rose ceases her running, and turning around, sending Vivian a big grin.

"We're sending this tape to the uncles in Paris, Rose," Vivian's voice is filled with pride and laughter, and Rose hums at this, smacking her hand to her face, shaking her head repeatedly.

Vivian laughs, "Oh, don't do that, you love taking pictures, don't you?" and then, the little girl removes her hand, and giggles.

"I know you do," Vivian praises, and Castle's gaze is still fixed on the screen, "But the uncles in Paris don't even know you, honey. Tell them something."

Rose hums again, her features convey a sudden lost of interest, and she tries focusing on Vivian, "Tell them what's your name, baby."

She mutters something, like struggling with her speech, then emits, "R..Rose!" she smiles when succeeding expressing herself.

"And how old are you, Pumpkin?"

The child doesn't answer, but displays four tiny fingers for the camera, "You're four, that's correct," Vivian says, "And tell me, baby, who loves you most in the world?"

Rose smiles, the question easy to answer, "Grandmère!" she bounces, the familiar word is the only which she has no problem pronouncing.

"And who do you like playing with?"

Rose considers, her pinky finds its way into her mouth, "Nuuu-ni!" she decides, referring to her cousin Jonathan.

"And who's the most beautiful girl in this whole wide world?"

Swaying shyly, she blushes, and then smiles up at the camera, "_Bébé-Rose!_" she chirps, and a small giggle follows.

Vivian laughs, "Of course, you're right," The child bites her lip adorably, "Baby-Rose is the most beautiful of them all."

A burst of energy comes out, as Rose starts jumping up and down, calling "Play, play," over and over, and Vivian shakes the camera, mumbling, "Look at me, the Battery's almost done!" she rustles slightly, then calls, "Rosie, we have to finish this for now, we'll send the tape to grandma Beatrice, would you like that?"

The girl nods, pulling at her blouse.

"Ok, sweetie, c'mon, look over here for a moment," and Roses glance turns to focus on the camera again.

Castle knows this part by now, the most heartbreaking moment, that is.

"Say good-bye to grandma Beatrice and the uncles, honey."

Her eyes sparkling, Rose reaches a hand, waving, "Ba-bye," she calls cheerfully, "Ba- Byeee…"

* * *

**A/N-****Is it January, yet?!**


End file.
